


all in your head

by hiraethia



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I'm projecting again, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Neil quits Exy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethia/pseuds/hiraethia
Summary: here's the thing: neil has never had trouble just dropping things and leaving before.here's the catch: he's never dropped exy before.and now here's the ugly truth: he wants to.(in which neil makes perhaps the hardest decision in his life).





	all in your head

**Author's Note:**

> love ~~break up~~ letter for lax
> 
> hi folks. i'm sad. let's move on

Neil didn't know when the feeling had started. Maybe it was during their last season, when he'd injured his knee in only the second game of the year and had been out for half the season. Maybe it was after the season ended, when they'd been booted from championships after losing the tiebreaker. Maybe it was when he started piling up on classes, started taking on the hardest math classes his school had to offer, started finding things outside of Exy.

All he knew was that he'd dropped his guard a moment too long, and now there was this pit of ugly emptiness that had taken root in his chest. It clung to his ribs and curled cruelly around his heart, drained any of the spark he'd felt toward Exy when he first started. And where he'd previously felt joy, adrenaline, _please put me in first, Coach_ , he only felt - nothing.

He didn't want to go to practices anymore. His racquet felt more like - well, a cumbersome stick - than an extension of his body. And he could _feel_ himself slipping away from it, felt his love for it falling through his desperate fingers like sand, yet he just couldn't make himself sever the final strings yet.

So he pushed through it.

Maybe it was his shit mental health, according to Andrew.

He was lying against his boyfriend's side, math textbook unopened on the floor, fiddling with the strings on his racquet, when he first said it.

"I'm thinking about quitting." The words stung and cut him on the way out, and he nearly recoiled from the sound of them. Andrew's fingers paused where they'd been carding through his hair, the only sign his boyfriend was shocked at all.

Neil closed his eyes, shuddering when strong arms wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer. 

"And what brought that on, Junkie?" Andrew asked quietly. The nickname felt too bittersweet just then, churning unpleasantly in Neil's gut as he turned his head toward Andrew.

"Don't tell Kevin," Neil opted to say instead, though Andrew's hazel eyes pierced right through his measly attempt at changing the subject.

His boyfriend paused, before sitting up. Neil immediately moved away from him, though Andrew just rolled his eyes and tugged him right back.

"Why?" he asked again.

Neil exhaled shakily. He let his racquet fall to the floor.

"I don't know," he murmured. "I - I don't like - I don't know."

"You don't like what?" 

His hands were trembling. His chest ached. "It doesn't make me happy anymore."

 _There. You said it._ He could hear his mother's voice echoing treacherously through his head. _I told you so._

Andrew's voice was sharp, cutting through her scathing remarks like a knife. "Hey. Breathe."

Neil hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. He inhaled sharply, air hitting his lungs painfully, before dropping his head into his hands. 

"Andrew," he whispered. "I fucking hate this."

"Hm." His boyfriend's apparent disinterest dissipated when Neil felt his comforting hands cup his face. Andrew ran his thumbs along Neil's scarred cheeks, almost too gently. "Is this you talking, Abram?"

Neil jolted, looking up. "What?"

"This is you. This is what you want," Andrew said, not quite a question. "Not your mother, not anyone else. You want this?"

He didn't. He didn't want to quit. He couldn't just drop everything and _leave._ He had to stick with it, pull through like he always did, give himself a little push over the edge. He'd fall back in love with the sport like he fell back in love with the road and the sky at daybreak and hazel; he'd fall back in love with it like he fell in love with the boy in front of him, harsh and unforgiving. He just had to wait it out, long enough until he liked it again, liked the way the bruises marked up his skin, the grass stains on his knees, the shrill noise of Wymack's whistle and Dan's laugh and Matt's shouts of joy and Kevin's reprimands, and - 

Yes. 

He wanted to quit.

Because it was suffocating him. It was hurting him. It wasn't _loving_ him like he'd loved it. 

It'd lost him somewhere along the bumpy, dusty way; and he'd lost the map back to it in the process, too.

Neil stared at Andrew, rooting himself in the steady calmness of his boyfriend's eyes. He stared at Neil without judgment, only blankness. It calmed him down a little.

"I do," he finally whispered. Andrew blinked, taking his answer in stride, before nodding.

"It's not the end of the world."

Neil leaned forward until his forehead hit Andrew's shoulder. "I know." 

He didn't say anything else, only letting Neil take as much of his misshapen comfort as he needed. He stayed there until the door opened again, half an hour later.

"Still here, midget?" Stuart's voice was gruff as he entered the living room.

"Unfortunately." Andrew's voice vibrated through his chest, and Neil hummed quietly. Forcing himself to sit up, he glanced over at his uncle, who was leaning against the doorway with a hand on his hip, leg popped out like one of those sassy mothers Neil always saw on Nicky's TV shows. 

It was a ridiculous enough sight that in his fragile state, Neil started to laugh. Stuart glowered at him.

"What? Something on my face?" he asked. 

"Yeah," Andrew said, hand settling on Neil's thigh. "Your face."

"This is my fucking house," Stuart warned, though Neil knew he wouldn't dare kick Andrew out - not while Neil was still there.

"We claimed the fucking couch," Andrew mocked.

"Fucking hell." Throwing his hands up, Stuart turned and left. He called out, "Order some fucking takeout, I don't feel like cooking," before heading into his office. Neil sighed softly as Andrew hummed, fingers tracing circles against his sides.

"Can you not try to start fights with my uncle every time?" Neil asked - though secretly, he was glad for the semblance of normalcy. He still felt hopelessly uprooted, displaced, but Andrew and Stuart's bickering helped put him back in place - just a little.

Andrew hummed again, leaning down and just barely kissing his shoulder. 

"Are you telling Wymack?" he asked, voice muffled against Neil's skin.

He shut his eyes, lost himself in Andrew's touch.

"I have to, don't I?" he whispered.

Andrew pinched his wrist, bringing him out of his thoughts. "Don't wait long," was all he said, before turning Neil around again. "Yes or no?"

"Yes." It was frail and vulnerable, but Andrew accepted it. He pushed Neil down against the cushions - gently - and kissed him hard. Neil shut everything else out, until the word narrowed down to just his boyfriend's lips and touch, their mingling breaths and the fact that he had a math test tomorrow that he definitely would not be studying for.

He'd deal with Exy another time. He always would.

\--

Neil was dreading practice.

He'd promised Andrew to tell Wymack today - it had been a week since he'd first told his boyfriend he wanted to quit. Andrew had watched him flounder his way through practice, hold back his flinch whenever Wymack praised him on a particular shot or play, and he'd forced Neil to "stop destroying himself like a fucking martyr." 

Old habits died hard, but Neil knew he was right.

He didn't dress out that day, so he was the first on the field. He spotted Wymack's truck parked underneath the shade of the trees, the back still full of bins of equipment and balls. Tightening his grip around his racquet, Neil glanced around for his coach.

He spotted him heading back, cones still clutched in one hand as he flicked a piece of stubborn grass off his shirt.

The familiar urge to run flared up again inside Neil's chest, and before he could bolt, Wymack looked up and spotted him.

"Josten," he said, throwing the cones onto the back of his truck. "You're early."

"Yes, Coach," Neil forced himself to say. Wymack took off his sunglasses, tucking them into his shirt.

"Forgot your uniform? I have extras in the back," he said, jerking his thumb toward his trunk, before sitting down in the passenger seat to go over his clipboard of notes. Neil could only stare at his coach helplessly as the words rose and then ebbed away in his throat, wringing his hands around his stick, nerves buzzing with the urge to _run, this can wait, just stop -_

He shut his eyes tightly. Counted to twenty forwards and backwards in English, then in French and Spanish, before he forced himself to move.

He stopped in front of Wymack, threading his fingers tightly through his racquet netting.

"I'm dropping Exy," he said.

Wymack stopped writing. Neil looked down immediately, staring at the ground as his mind began whirling at a million miles an hour - _I've fucked up, I'm going to regret this, I shouldn't have told him I shouldn't have even brought this up what the hell am I doing I should've just stayed home -_

"Look at me, kid. Hey. Neil."

He forced his gaze up, biting harshly on his lip when he met Wymack's eyes.

He nearly recoiled.

There was supposed to be anger. His coach was supposed to be angry. _Furious_ , at Neil for ditching the team, for letting him down, for throwing away his potential. 

But there was only - concern.

"Can you tell me why?" Wymack was asking. "Is Seth being a problem for you?"

And everything - _everything_ \- decided it was a great time, right there, to just well up.

"I don't love it anymore," he stammered. The words fell out of him like a tsunami wave, threatening to crush him. "I haven't loved it for a while. I just keep going through the motions thinking that - that I might find the spark again, but I just can't. I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_ , I don't know if I can do it anymore, I might lose my mind - "

"Hey. Slow down." Wymack stood up, hand raised. Neil flinched. His coach stopped, before dropping his hand again. 

"I'm sorry," Neil muttered again. 

Wymack stared at him for a long while, something too old and too sad in his eyes just then. He pursed his lips, before motioning for Neil to step closer.

"You talk about this with your parents?" he asked.

Neil closed his eyes again, struggling and failing to get himself together. He could hear voices in the distance as the rest of the team started coming down to the field. He couldn't make himself look at them.

"Yes," he said hoarsely.

"What did they say?"

"That he'd support me." Neil echoed Stuart's sentiment. 

Wymack tilted his head to the side, shoulders sagging with a sigh. He sat down again, running a hand through his graying hair, as he thought of his words. 

It was a long minute before he finally said anything again.

"Let me tell you something, coach to player," he said. "We _hate_ losing players. You know the history of this team. Built from the gutters, yeah?"

"Yeah," Neil whispered.

"But if it's getting to the point where you can't enjoy yourself out there, where you're beginning to think that your time could be better used elsewhere, then do it." 

Neil's head jerked up. "What?" he breathed.

Wymack smiled wryly. "You're a good person, Neil," he said. "You've done great things for the team, you've worked very hard. I might be hard on you, but I see everything you've done. I'm very happy with what you've accomplished, okay? You leaving Exy doesn't change any of that."

"But - "

"There's no hard feelings," Wymack insisted, eyes hardening. "It's a shitty situation, yes. Quitting something you used to love is even shittier. But sometimes you just have to be selfish, and I get that. You, of all people, have to learn that. Sometimes you need to put yourself first.

"Fuck what the team's gonna think. Fuck what Kevin's gonna say. You do this for yourself, nobody else, and if leaving is what's going to make you happiest, then you do that. I'm always going to support you either way, and I'm still going to try to run you and your goth midget boyfriend over with my truck whenever I see you."

A wet laugh bubbled up in Neil's throat, tearing through him like knives. Wymack grinned sagely.

"Of course I'd love for you to stay. But I can't force you to do anything. This is up to you," he said, "and if and when you decide you want to come back, there's a spot open for you."

Neil's shoulders began to shake as he clutched his racquet. He breathed in shakily as Wymack looked on, struggling to get himself together. It felt like all his broken pieces were floating away from him, yet he was still there.

Lost, but at least _somewhere._

"I have to say," Wymack remarked after a long minute. "Never thought Andrew would outlast you."

It was so absurd and true that Neil started laughing again - though in the end, it began to sound more like a choked-off sob than anything. Wymack only smiled and picked up his clipboard again.

"Take a break, Josten," he said. "Go home. I'll mark you here. Let me know your final decision on Monday, okay?"

"Okay," Neil whispered. 

He turned and stumbled away from Wymack, walked blindly until he nearly bumped right into Andrew. Neil blinked up at his boyfriend through blurry eyes, taking in his silent question.

"I did it," he murmured as Andrew reached out, cupping his cheek.

"Good for you, Junkie."

The moment was interrupted when Matt approached them, eyes wide with worry.

"Neil? My son, you okay? Did Andrew hurt you?" he demanded.

He shook his head rapidly, throat too tight. Suddenly he could barely speak. 

"I-I-I might d-drop Exy," he sputtered, hand coming up to cover his mouth as the burning behind his eyes became too much. He couldn't do anything else before Matt was lunging at him, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

"It's okay. We still love you, Exy or not," he was murmuring, petting his hair. Neil shook hard against him, breathing interrupted by treacherous hiccups that gave away his crying.

"Hey. This a group hug session?" It was Nicky.

"Yeah. Hop on in." Matt leaned down, enveloping Neil in his chest, as Nicky joined them. For once, Neil didn't mind the contact, only dropping his stick so he could reach up and clutch Matt's jersey. 

His tears wet the fabric.

He didn't know when or how, but eventually he somehow ended up in the center of a giant group hug. Andrew stood off to the side with Aaron and Kevin, but Neil could barely see them as he was being squished between Matt and Nicky and Dan.

He could barely stop himself from breaking down right there.

He supposed it didn't matter if he kept playing Exy or not. The Foxes were still his family, were still his team. They didn't love him just because he was at their side on the court, on the field. 

They loved him because he was _there._

Neil shut his eyes tightly. 

The only difference was - 

Maybe this time, he'd be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> very hastily thrown together, i'm posting my big bang fic tomorrow, but i needed to get this out. basically projected everything i've been feeling onto neil (sorry bud). ik this entire premise of him quitting exy is probably very ooc, but it's a struggle i'm dealing with right now, and i just need to put it into words. 
> 
> thx for bearing with me. see yall soon


End file.
